


Seven devils all around me

by Sansastarklives



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:28:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sansastarklives/pseuds/Sansastarklives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sweetrobin is ill, so Alayne decides to explore the Eyrie for the day and finds a waterfall. Inspired by Florence and the machine: Seven devils.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven devils all around me

Outside her window the sky was a pale blue, with shades of pink and orange creeping across, chasing the sun as though it were a game. Wispy white clouds floated lazily, catching the golden rays beaming from the sun. A cool breeze climbed from from the heavens, feeling like breath on the skin as it moved past. However it wasn't enough compared the the burning heat of the sun. It crawled through Alayne's window, waking her from her dreamless sleep. When she saw the sunrise, she smiled. Back in Winterfell the sky had always seemed a shade of grey: even on days so hot that you thought you would burn alive there and then. She quickly shook the thoughts of Winterfell from her head. It was no longer her home. Her new home was the Eyrie, and today was the perfect day to explore it. There was a note beside her bed. She recognised the swoopy handwriting as soon as she opened it, and sighed.  
Dearest Alayne, Sweetrobin is extremely ill today and it would be best if you did not visit him. Enjoy the last of the Summer’s heat.   
There was no need to leave any name. Alayne thought about how he must have come into her room. How hadn’t she woken up? She didn’t know what annoyed her: the fact that Petyr came into her room without her knowing. Or the fact that she had seen her asleep: unguarded, and messy. Her hair was all over the place! She prayed to the Gods that he had sent someone else to give her the note, but the truth kept tugging at her mind.  
She pulled out an elegant dress, the colour of the midnight sky with specks of silver littered across it like stars. But there were far too many layers for a warm day like today. Instead she put on a pale pink dress, which hugged her figure. It was quite thin with very few layers, which made it cool. Her combed her hair behind her head, and let the loose curls hang there without any braids or accessories to decorate it. Sansa Stark would have never worn her hair in such a boring way, but she was no longer Sansa. This was the perfect way for Alayne to wear her hair- boring and didn’t draw any attention.  
Alayne found her way to the forest. The trees stretched up to the sky, their bronze leaves almost brushing the cotton clouds. At the end of those long, twisted limbs were thin, crooked fingers beckoning her forwards. She slipped off her shoes and walked between the thick bodies of the trees barefoot, a normal thing for a bastard to do, she thought. The ground was soft beneath her feet, and slowly sunk with every step she took. Through the black soil sprouted flowers in every colour imaginable. Their bright leaves shone against their dark bed. Alayne wanted to pick them and take them back to her chambers with her, but decided against it. She knew what it was like to be plucked from your home. She knew that the flowers would slowly change and die, and these flowers should stay beautiful. Instead she engraved them onto her mind. The way they looked as the bathed in the light of the sun. They way they felt as she brushed her delicate fingers against them. The sweet smell that tickled her nose when she leant down and inhaled deeply.   
As she delved deeper into the forest, she sound of rushing waters whispered in her ears. It was like a familiar old song, which she had forgotten. The ghost of a memory crept into the thoughts. Once, when she was younger, the Starks had travelled across the North and had come across a waterfall. It was so high, that the top of the waterfall couldn’t be seen and it looked at though it poured straight out of the sky. Her parents had sat on the grass, Rickon just a babe in their arms. Robb and Jon had found the waterfall a boring thing after watching it for a moment, and decided to look for any wild animals that roamed nearby. Ayra and Sansa sat on the edge of the water, their feet dangling in it. They had watched Bran with wide eyes, as he climbed the rocks of the waterfall with swift movements. Theon stood beneath him, ready to catch him if he fell, even though he never fell. However the rocks were slippery, and Arya’s hands had grabbed Sansa’s when Bran’s hand slipped. When he found himself sure footed again, she released her iron grip and had turned a shade of red, ashamed. It had been one of the few times that she and Arya had gotten along.  
For once Alayne didn’t cry at the thought of Winterfell, no. Instead she was smiling and found herself longing to find the waterfall. The one before her was pretty, but it was no were near as beautiful as the one in the North. Not when her families laughter did not sing with the waters.   
It seemed to be a hundred feet high, at the very least. The waters collected as a pool beneath it, slowly swaying in the slight breeze. The waves glistened in the sun, as though thousands of small diamonds had been thrown into the waters. Alayne went to move closer to the pool, but something stopped her. She eyed the pile of clothes, which were neatly folded on the bank of the pool. Her ocean eyes searched for their owner, but all she could see was the silhouette underneath the surface, too far to be identified. She turned her attention to the clothes, and the object shining brightly on top of them. It was a small silver pin, and Alyane didn’t need to actually see it to know what it was. It was shaped like a mockingbird, which meant only one thing: Petyr.  
Alayne didn’t know whether she should make her presence known. No, she thought. She couldn’t bear to see that smug little smirk, not on a beautiful day like today. Instead she turned sharply and walked back into the protection of the trees.  
“Alayne!” A husky voice rang out from far away. Seven hells, she swore silently. She forced a small smile on her face and turned to see Petyr swimming towards her, gesturing for her to meet him at the edge. Slowly, she walked to the pool, the sun burning through her clothes. Petyr squinted at the bright light behind her, but held her gaze anyway. “How are you today, sweetling?”  
She dropped down onto the bank, lifting her skirts to her thighs as she did so and dipped her feet into the pool’s cool waters. “Quite well, thank you.” She chimed. “I was sad to hear about Sweetrobin, however.” She added.  
“Ah, yes. Such a shame.” His voice betrayed him, a hint of laughter in his words. “I’m glad you decided to enjoy the last of the Summer’s heat, Sansa.” She loved the way her name rolled off his tongue, as though his mouth was made just to say her name. She glanced down into the clear waters, and then realised that Petyr was completely naked. She averted her gaze to the waterfall, blushing as she did so. She could also feel the smirk on his face. “Why don’t you come for a swim, sweetling?”  
“Maybe another day.” Alayne didn’t want to strip in front of Petyr. She may be a bastard here, but she still had her pride. Her stubborn, Stark pride. Petyr’s mocking laugh rang out, filling the air.  
“You’re so sweet, Sansa. So innocent.” He sneered. “And so predictable.”  
“I just don’t feel like swimming.” She hated how defensive she sounded. “What do you mean so innocent?” She muttered, mimicking his voice: much to his amusement.  
“Look at you. You won’t even look at me. Does nudity frighten you, dear? Would you have preferred for me to have jumped in fully clothed?” He laughed. Sansa’s cheeks burnt a furious red and she forced herself to look at him. He moved closer to her, placing his soaking hand on the bare skin of her leg. “Prove me wrong then, jump in. You can jump in fully clothed if you really want to.” He slowly moved backwards, still grinning. When he began to swim back towards the waterfall, Sansa stood up and stormed off back into the woods. ‘How dare he?’ She thought. ‘That smug little grin. I loved to see his face if I just jumped into the pool now.’ She focused her attention on those words. Making sure that Petyr was still under the surface, she slipped out of her dress and dove into the pool. The water gathered around her, wrapping her in a liquid blanket. It licked her skin, and sank into her small clothes.   
Petyr’s head snapped up, searching for the source of the splash. However all he could see were the ripples moving through the water. A pile of pink had been thrown onto the bank, and his mouth hung open in realisation. Maybe she wasn’t so innocent after all.  
Sansa moved with grace beneath the surface. As she drew closer to the waterfall, the current got stronger and her moves began less graceful and more powerful. After a moment she wondered whether she was swimming, or being pulled along. She was getting dangerously close to the point where the fall hits the pool and knew that if she were to swim under that, then she would surely be crushed. She made to dig her heels into the ground, but she was too short. A sudden wave collapsed over her, shooting her downwards. When her feet hit the water bed, she used all of her strength to push herself upwards and away from the current. She moved up an inch or two, but stopped. A strip of seaweed had wrapped around her slim ankle, holding her firmly in place. Sansa had never been good at holding her breath underwater, and could feel a scratching at the back of her thought that begged for air. She clawed at the seaweed, but its death grip did not loosen. She yanked at her leg, but she was chained to the ground. Her face was turning deeper and deeper shades of red as the minutes ticked by. She violently waved her waves in the air, but they didn’t even brush the surface. The lack of air was causing her head to swirl, and black circled around the edges of her vision.  
‘I’m going to die,’ she thought. ‘I’m going to see my family again.’ Her mother appeared before her, a sad smile traced across her lips. Behind her stood her father, his hands placed on her shoulders. They had finally been reunited. Robb was with them, one hand outstretched towards her. She wondered where Bran and Rickon were, but was happy to see any of her family at all. She wanted to let go, so badly. She wanted to just slip away and never be scared again, but she knew she couldn’t. ‘I’m sorry.’ She screamed. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She wasn’t quite sure what she was apologising for, but she felt like she needed to. She couldn’t die, not yet. She was not finished living. She still had so much to do, so much to experience. She still had to seek revenge for the death of her family.   
Water forced her lips to part and poured down her lungs, trapping any air that was once there. Everything started to go dark, as Sansa slowly lost consciousness.   
‘I don’t want to die,’ she thought. She thought of Petyr. The man who had saved her from the lions, risking his own life as he did so. The man who she was only just getting to really know. The man who was teaching her everything she knew. The man who she was started to fall for.  
They say in you’re your final moments everything becomes clear, and for Sansa it did. All she saw was Petyr. His smile. The way her heart fluttered in her chest whenever he was near. Petyr.  
Two small hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her upwards. All Sansa could see was black, so she thought it was death, carrying her up to the heavens. She broke the surface and stopped. Air teased at her mouth, but something was stopping it. She felt a pounding on her back and the water exploded from the back of her throat, causing her to gasp desperately. Her vision returned and she saw grey green looking at her with concern. His eyes were narrowed, and his brows merged together as he held Sansa. She threw her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. Her head was spinning, violently and she felt as through she would throw up. Petyr’s finger gently stroked her hair as he whispered sounds that had no meaning.  
“I thought- I thought I was going to die.” She sobbed, no longer caring about the tears which poured from her ocean eyes. She glared at the waters, the place where her body would have been lost if it weren’t for Petyr. That was twice he had saved her now. Or had it been more than twice? She thought. He had saved her from the lions and today from drowning. But hadn’t he saved her long before that? He had been her friend when she felt most lonely. He had given her hope when others assured her all was lost. He had breathed life into her at the Eyrie, teaching her everything. He was saving her by teaching her, preparing her for the game.  
Petyr lightly kissed the top of her head, and Sansa responded by hugging him even tighter. Then she remembered. Petyr was naked and she was in her small clothes! What was she doing? The girl she knew would never have done something like this, but then again she was no longer the girl she used to know.  
She didn’t know whether it was because she was still lightheaded from almost drowning, but she swore she could see a woman on the bank. Not a real woman: the ghost of a woman. She had long flaming hair, and was wearing a golden silk dress. She was swaying, lifting her arms in the air as she sang. Her voice was hauntingly beautiful. Sansa could remember the song as though it were yesterday she had seen the woman, not four years ago.

Seven devils all around me,

Seven devils in my house.

See I was dead when I woke up this morning,

And I’ll be dead before the day is done.

Sansa hadn’t understood the words at the time, but she understood them clearly now. Petyr was changing her. He was corrupting her. Petyr was her devil. She was practically dead when she met him and by saving her he breathed life back into her. She knew the day that he was finished with her would be the day she died. Sansa Stark would never had swam in a lake, half naked with a man. She would never have allowed herself to fall for Petyr Baelish. Petyr was changing her.  
Petyr’s hand cupped Sansa’s chin and he lifted it to meet her gaze. He leant down and gently brushed his lips against hers. He waited for her response. She moved forward, kissing him back lightly. His tongue moved to her lips, parting them slightly. She parted them willingly, allowing his tongue to move around her mouth with desperation. His hands were on her back pulling her closer to him.   
The woman was still singing on the bank, her eyes resting on Sansa, eyebrows raised. After a moment Sansa realised something. Petyr was her devil, of that she was sure. But she was also his. The Petyr she knew had every single move planned, he would never do anything to jeopardise his position in the game of thrones. Sansa was corrupting Petyr, without knowing that she was doing it. Petyr would have never given into his desires, not after what happened all those years ago. He was constantly reminded of that fact by the scar etched into his chest.  
Sansa’s delicate fingers traced the scar on his chest, breaking away from the kiss. His lips trailed soft kisses around her neck and across her collarbone. His teeth grazed her shoulders, sending shivers down her back.  
Sansa thought about how she and Petyr were now playing a game of their own. She knew the game of thrones was all that mattered, but this game was so dangerous, so stupid, but so much better than she could ever have dreamt. She wondered who would win this particular game, and thought of asking Petyr. She knew what he’d say, and wasn’t ready to hear those words. She shook them from her head and turned her attention back to Petyr, whose fingers were slipping down her stomach, grazing the place between her legs.  
The woman was still singing and the next line stuck with Sansa. I’m gonna raise the stakes. I’m gonna smoke you out. Sansa grinned to herself and peeled away her small clothes. Petyr’s grey green betrayed nothing, but she knew that he was fascinated. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. His hand cupped her breast, gently squeezing it, making small moans ripple from the back of Sansa’s throat.  
She kissed him deeply, but couldn’t shake his imaginary words from her head. She knew that they were exactly what he’d say, because they were true. She wrapped her legs around his bed, sitting on his stomach. His mouth grew into a grin, but he never broke away. She lightly bit on his lower lip, delighted by the surprised look in his eyes.  
She wanted to prove his imaginary words wrong, because they wouldn’t stop ringing in her head. Neither, sweetling. We’re both losers in this wicked game.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't read all of the books, so I know that their probably isn't a waterfall or forest in the Eyrie, but I regret nothing.


End file.
